The Boy and the Cat
by LeglessFishOnRollerskates
Summary: Draco Malfoy gets a pet cat. Said cat becomes a therapy animal and best friend to the traumatized young man. Slowly they bond, and Draco begins to recount the horrors of working for Lord Voldemort. Post-war. Eighth year at Hogwarts. Possible Drarry. Rated T because I'm slightly paranoid and because I don't know exactly what's going to happen in later chapters yet.
1. Return to Hogwarts

Authors note: This is a story about a boy named Draco Malfoy and an animal that changes his life. The animal in question has taken different forms across different stories and theories, but I, along with many others, like the idea of it being a cat. I have seen the cat go by many names, including Paws, Whiskers, and Furball, but my favorite by far has been Specs, and that is the name that I will be using in my story. If what I have said here doesn't entirely make sense to you, that's ok. It's not supposed to, for you to fully enjoy the story. However, this is just a disclaimer to those of you who do understand what I'm saying. The name Specs belongs to BummedOutWriter. I don't know who first came up with the cat concept, but it wasn't me. Everything else obviously belongs to J. K. Rowling. Just a heads up, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this story yet but there is a strong possibility of eventual Drarry. Also, this is the first fanfiction that I've written, so I appologise in advance if it's terrible. And now I will stop rambling because you're all probably bored out of your minds by now and just want to get to the story.(By the way, this Author's Note was supposed to be italicized, but somehow it got un italicized and I can't figure out how to fix it because I'm typing this all on my phone. So, sorry about that. On with the story!)

Draco Malfoy did not, under any circumstances, want to go back to Hogwarts ever again. The embarrassment of having fought on the losing, and maybe even the wrong, side of the war was bad enough. Coupled with the violent and devestating memories that surely would surface, it just seemed like a bad idea. In addition, many of his friends were dead, and few of the living ones were returning anyway. His father was in Azkaban. He should have been, too. However, due to the fact that he was underage when he enlisted and that he was pushed into it without any real choice, he was cleared of his charges. He had been surprised. All the other Death Eaters had been locked up. There was even a small part of him that thought that they might have deserved it. That he might have deserved it. But he had been released, not necessarily without a fuss, but without complication. He knew why, of course. No one was going to argue with the Chosen One when he had just saved the world. If he said that Draco was innocent, then Draco was innocent. No questions asked.

Draco was still utterly confused as to _why_ Harry Potter, of all people, had defended him, but he wasn't arguing. And, he supposed, if it was a choice between Hogwarts and Azkaban, he knew what his decision was. And that is how Draco Malfoy found himself on the Hogwarts Express, sitting alone in one of the extra compartments that had been added to the train to make space for the returning eighth years.

He saw a small group of people walk up to the window, see that he was sitting there, and quickly hurry off. Draco sighed. He tried to look on the bright side. At least no one was bothering him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few hours later, Draco woke to the sound of people in the corridor. He blearily noticed that the train had stopped moving, and heaved himself off of the bench.

Draco recoiled when he noticed the carriges. He had forgotton that he would be able to see the thestrals now. He heard many others gasp beside him as they realized it as well. His head started to pound. He didn't want to think about all the people who had died in the war. He remembered Vincent, how he had been consumed by the fire that he had so foolishly set himself. How the very same had nearly happened to him.

How Harry Potter had saved his life.

 _Harry Potter had saved his life!_

Why on earth would he have done that? They had been in the middle of a battle, and Draco had been the enemy. He realized that he hadn't thought about it at all until now. He speculated as he climbed into the nearest carrige. Potter must have had some ulterior motive. He probably wanted a Death Eater who owed him a life-debt. It was strong magic. It had saved him before, from Peter Pettigrew. That was probably why Potter had argued in his defense, he ralized somewhat glumly. It was no use having someone in your debt if they weren't able to pay it. And he definately wouldn't have been able to pay his debt from Azkaban. He supposed he would just have to avoid Potter, so as not to be forced into anything. However, he realized that that might be harder than he had thought when he reached the Great Hall.

The four House Tables were there, along with the Head Table where the teachers sat, however there was now a fifth table at the back of the hall parallel to the staff table. He noticed many students giving it strange glances, and he could understan why. Curling gold script in the air above the fifth table read _The House of Dumbledore._ Beneath it, in parentheses, read _(Eighth Years)._

Confused and a little nervous, Draco sat down on the very end of the bench, as far away from everyone else as possible. Unfortunately for him, Harry Potter sat down next to him.

Draco was saved from having to talk to him by the entrance of the first years. The sorting had begun. Draco tuned out most of it, fiddling with his fork, eager for the food to appear. However, when the sorting was done, rather than start the feast, Headmistress Professor McGonagall stood up and stepped forward.

"Before we begin our meal, I have some announcements and some things to explain," she said, looking kindly down at the students. "As you all know, the seventh year students from last year were unable to comlete their NEWT examinations, due to a rather nasty battle that occurred right here at Hogwarts."

The students murmerred as she continued.

"Therefore, they will be returning this year to complete their studies. In a somewhat controversial move, the staff have made the executive decision to add a fifth house to Hogwarts this year, named after our dearly departed Proffessor Dumbledore." She discretely wiped her eyes. "Rather than living in their respective houses from previous years at Hogwarts, the returning eighth year students will be living together in Dumbledore House, to promote unity among all wizards and witches, and so that the veteran students can provide comfort and support to eachother in these troubled times of rebuilding society."

Draco frowned. Ravenclaws weren't so bad, but the Gryffindors were positively infuriating. Not to mention, he was expected to share a house with _Huffelpuffs?_ It was a nice idea, but he was quite certain that this decision would soon be regretted. He silenced his thoughts as Professor McGonagall spoke again.

"On a related note, a memorial has been set up near the Forbidden Forest - oh yes, first years, don't go in the forest - dedicated to all those lost in the war. Student may request passes either from myself or from any Heads of House to leave class for a short period of time to visit the memorial. Anyone may also visit during any free hours, however I will warn you that you are less likely to be alone if you do so." She was now visibly crying, and took a few moments to compose herself before continuing.

"Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Huffelpuff will continue to be headed by professors Slughorn, Flitwick, and Sprout, respectively. Gryffindor will be headed by Professor Vector, as I will be unable to from now on, having added Headmistress duties. I will still be teaching Transfiguration, however the class periods that I will have available will be more limited, and so I will be teaching classes with multiple houses at one time. After a long debate it was decided that, as responsible adults, the students of Dumbledore House do not need a Head to keep them under controll. However, they will have a House Representative - a member of the staff that will bring their concerns to meetings and help solve any conflicts that they cannot solve themselves. This person will be Professor Hagrid." An outburst of noise from the students greeted this announcement, and Professor McGonagall had to yell to be heard.

"In addition! Defense Against the Dark Arts will be taught by Professor Weasley to all students under NEWT age. Please know that this is temporary, until we find someone else to teach the class and Professor Weasley can resume his job at the Ministry."

Draco frowned, positive that he had heard wrong. But sure enough, there he was, _Arthur Weasley_ grinning and waving akwardly from the staff table. Well, this would be interesting.

"For all students of NEWT age, you will have a different Defense teacher, who is none other than Harry Potter himself."

Draco blanched. First it was Weasley, now Potter? And also, Hagrid? Why had they put Hagrid in charge of anything? He was destracted by Harry Potter standing up abruptly.

"Now wait just a minute, Professor. We discussed this once, and very briefly!"

"Yes, and if I recall, you said that you would take the job."

"Only if you couldn't find anyone more qualified! Why don't you bring in some auror? You brought in Arthur Weasley, surely you can find someone to teach the NEWT classes from the Ministry!"

Professor McGonagall looked at him shrewdly. "I would think that you would be far more qualified than any auror the Ministry could provide us. After all, none of them can claim to have vanquished Lord Voldemort."

Blushing and mumbling under his breath, Harry sat down and was immediately bombarded by his friends with questions. Professor McGonagall said something that Draco didn't catch, and then finally, _finally_ , the food appeared. Draco stuffed himself and then followed the rest of the eighth years out of the Hall, having no idea where the House of Dumbledore might be located. He was stopped, however, by a voice, and a hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy. If you could follow me for a moment." Professor McGonagall guided him into a small classroom off to the side, and gave him such a pitying look that he thought he might puke. "I know that this all has been very difficult for you," she said quietly. "I want to help you. There's someone I want you to meet. His name is Specs, and he will hopefully help you get through this last year here."

Draco frowned. He knew immediately that he was going to dislike whoever this was. Anyone with a stupid name like Specs was sure to annoy him. He settled even more firmly into this belief when Professor McGonagall produced a black, scruffy-looking cat. She handed it to him with a kind smile, and exited the room.

Draco stood there, unsure of what to do, until the cat - specs, what a stupid name - began to squirm in his arms. He hastily set it down, and stepped out into the now deserted hallway. He had only taken a few steps when he realized that he didn't have the faintest idea where he was going. Draco sighed. This was going to be a long night.

 _Thank you so much for reading to the end of this chapter. I know it was super long, but I wanted to get to the part where Draco meets Specs, and I needed to give some introduction first. Please reveiw with suggestions. Any and all comments are appreciated._


	2. The Wisdom of the Chosen One

_I know the first chapter was kind of rushed._ _Like I said, I was just trying to get through it to the point where Draco meets Specs. I went back and added a little more detail, as well as correcting a few spelling errors that my friend pointed out, but it's still not super descriptive. I will try to be better about that._

Draco stood in the middle of the hall. It was dark and deserted. He looked around slightly aimlessly. He was pretty sure that Dumbledore House wasn't in the dungeons, but he knew nothing else about it, and had no idea where where he was going. Great.

Suddenly, Specs darted out into the hallway. He glanced at Draco, before starting purposefully off away from the Great Hall. He reached the corner, before looking back at Draco. His expression seemed to say, "So are you coming, or what?"

"I'm not following you! You're probably going to some weird place where all the Hogwarts cats hang out. I don't have time to chase you around the whole school. I just want to find my dorm and sleep!"

Specs gave him a "Suit yourself" look, before walking away. Draco stomped off in the other direction, trying not to feel hurt that he had just been abandoned by a cat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three hours later, Draco was on the verge of giving up. He had asked some paintings for help, but they had been very irritated at being woken up and refused to give him any information. He had gone back to the Great Hall to see if any information had been posted, but there was nothing. He mentally cursed himself for standing in that classroom for so long. If he had gone back into the hall immediately he probably could have gotten back in the line of eighth years and followed them. But now it was the middle of the night, and he was hopelessly lost.

Suddenly, Peeves swooped out of nowhere, dumping an ink bottle on his head and cackling with glee. In desparation, Draco shouted after him.

"Hey, Peeves! Have you got any idea where-"

But Peeves was gone. Draco groaned. He was lost in the middle of a school that was bringing back far too many memories. He was tired, he was cold, and now his hair was messed up. Could this day possibly get any worse?

Draco froze as he noticed the sound of footsteps drawing near. He quickly ducked into an alcove as a cloaked figure strode swiftly past, head down. He didn't recognize the person, and decided to investigate. He had nothing better to do, after all. And there was always the chance that the mysterious figure was headed for Dumbledore House.

As the figure rounded the corner, Draco stepped out from the alcove, only to crash into a very solid bit of air and fall backwards on the floor rather painfully. Draco and the air cried out simultaneously, amid thumps. Wand out, Draco reached forward and grabbed at the air. The invisibility cloak shimmered in his hand as a messy-haired, bespectacled teen was revealed.

"Potter," Draco growled. "What are you doing sneaking around the castle at-" He heasitated and cast a quick _tempus_ charm before looking back at Harry. "-at 2:26 in the morning?"

"I could ask the same of you," he replied indignantly.

"I was following that man," said Draco glaring.

"No, you weren't"

"What do you mean?" Draco spluttered. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I've been following him for the last half hour, and haven't seen you once. Actually, as a matter of fact, I don't think I've seen you since the feast. Why didn't you come back to the common room?"

Draco couldn't tell if he was concerned or suspicious. He furrowed his brow. "McGonagall wanted to talk to me."

"Oh, of course!" His eyes filled with understanding. "And then you didn't know the way because it's a new House."

"What? N-no! I know exactly where Dumbledore House is!"

"Really? Where is it?"

Draco's face turned pink. "I - um..."

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. "Well, as I'm headed back anyway, you might as well come with me." He stood, and offered a hand to Draco. Draco stared at it, confused, then pushed himself up. Harry withdrew his hand, looking slightly - dissapointed?

Draco frowned. "What about that man?"

Harry gave him an odd look. "He's long gone by now. And I don't have the map with me. Although it probably wouldn't be much help seeing as I don't know who he is, anyway." At this point he was muttering to himself, and while Draco was curious about this map, he was too tired to press about it.

It turned out that the Dumbledore common room was actually the Room of Requirement, which Draco later cursed himself for not figuring out. They weren't just going to build a new piece of the castle from scratch, after all. However he was too tired to care much at this point, so he muttered a reluctant "Thanks" to Harry, and marched off to a side room that had appeared when he walked in.

"The dormitory's that way," said Harry, pointing confusedly at a different door on the other side of the room.

Draco turned back to look at him, annoyed. "I would prefer to have my own room, thanks," he said coldly.

Harry looked at him sympathetically. "You know, I can talk to them. I get that a lot of people haven't exactly liked the fact that you came back, and being honest, some of them probably never will. But I can ask them to lay off you. They listen to me."

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. That's what they say, isn't it?" He laughed dryly. "I'm pretty sure the more I keep to myself, the happier everyone is. You shouldn't worry too much."

"I'm a worse person than you are," said Harry quietly. "I've killed people."

Draco shook his head. "I've tried. You know that."

"Not really. You made it look like you tried. But you didn't. You never actually wanted to hurt anyone. Neither did I. Neither of us had a choice when we became part of this war. But you still never killed anyone. And that makes all the difference, doesn't it?" He spoke the question like a statement with no room for debate.

Draco stared at him, trying to figure out his motive. "I may not have killed anyone directly. But you can't deny that more people might have survived if I had made different choices."

Harry looked at him, his face a mask of pain. "Might have. Such stupid, pointless words. You have no idea how many times I've gone over it all in my head. So many people I could have saved, if only I had done _one thing_ differently. But we can't change the past. I know how hard it is to accept that. The greater the cost, the more you hate yourself for it. Because yes, lots of things were your fault. And people will blame you. You will blame yourself. But hindsight is a dangerous game. If you bereate yourself for your mistakes rather than learning from them, you'll only fail again. I learned it the hard way. Guilt sits with you for a long, long time. I'm not sure it ever goes away fully, for something like this. The grief certainly won't. But if you keep feeding it, it's eventually going to overcome you. I won't tell you to accept the past and move on. That's not something that I believe is possible. I couldn't do it if I tried. And I'm not sure I want to. But Dumbledore lived almost his entire life overcome by grief. He was terrified of getting close to people, too afraid of losing them. You shouldn't have to let go. But you shouldn't let your past control you, either. Your choices are what define you. And you made a choice. You didn't kill anyone. Even when the pressure on you to do so must have been unbearable. And because of that, I believe that you _are_ a good person, despite what you think of yourself."

Draco blinked, not sure if he had heard right. They stood there in silence for a long time, before Harry finally said "Goodnight, Draco" quietly, and left the room.

 _Wow, ok, that got heavier than I had intended. I'm warning you all right now, I have no grand plan for this story. I'm writing what comes into my head at the moment that it does, and so I really don't have any idea what is going to happen next. My original intent was for Draco to bond with Specs first, and Harry later and more slowly, but then I had this great idea for Harry-Wisdom and I really wanted to write it. So I did. Please feel free to comment. The readers are going to, at least partially, control the direction of this story because, like I said, I have no idea where I'm going or what I'm doing._


	3. Classes

_Sorry this one is so late. I had intended to post it weeks ago, but I've been super busy with school ending for the year and just now finished it_. _I really appreciate all the positive feedback I've been getting. It feels good to know that people are reading and enjoying my story. Any and all suggestions are always welcome._

Draco woke to something soft and warm weighing on his chest. He opened his eyes blearily, to see a pair of emerald ones staring back at him. Specs stood up and stretched, yawning, before leaping to the floor lightly and walking out through the cat flap that had appeared overnight. Draco groaned and dragged himself out of bed, bracing himself for a long day.

Breakfast was uncomfortable. He got a lot of stares and unwanted attention from all the people who had been to tired to notice him the night before. No one spoke to him, but he heard his name whispered more than once. The only former Slytherins that had returned to finish out their NEWTs were Pansy Parkinson, who had been avoiding him for some reason, and Blaise Zabini, who Draco hadn't spoken to since their extremely awkward relationship in fifth year had come crashing down at their feet.

For the first time in seven years, Draco had absolutely no friends. It was strange. The Gryffindors had never liked him. Neither had most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. But he had always been very popular among the Slytherins. And those who weren't his friends were too afraid of him to do much. But now he was just a sad, pathetic man, still technically a teenager, who had lost all power, respect, and dignity. It was almost too much to take.

Draco's first class was Potions. He had been given a schedule, seemingly at random, by Hagrid. It was a wide variety of skills. He didn't spare it more than a glance.

Professor Slughorn ignored him for the most part, except when Specs, who had followed Draco to breakfast and not left his side since, jumped up onto the table and knocked over the vial of shrew blood he had been about to add to his potion. The blood sizzled on the table like acid. Slughorn walked over, frowning. He siphoned up the mess with his wand, revealing a large scorch mark on the table.

"What is this?" Slughorn asked, giving Draco an accusing stare.

"Shrew blood?" Draco replied nervously, "At least, that's what it's supposed to be.." he trailed off.

"This is definitely not shrew blood," said Slughorn, frown growing deeper as he pondered. "Use some from the supply cabinet for now."

Wordlessly, Draco nodded. He didn't know who had tried to sabatoge him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. However, he did silently thank Specs for stopping him from adding it to his potion. Who knows what would have happened had he combined the mysterious substance with the delicate concoction that, he realized with a start, had now been steeping for five miutes too long. Cursing, he scrambled to get it off the flame and fix it before it became perminately suspended.

Half an hour later, Draco left the classroom with singed eyebrows, a smug cat, and a dangerous mood. Checking his schedule, Draco saw that his next class was Defence Against the Dark Arts, without really registering the implications of that until he was halfway there. He groaned and leaned his head against the wall. This was not a class he was excited for, not in the least. He briefly considered skipping the class altogether, but then Specs nudged his leg, snapping him back to reality. Skipping class could end catastrophically in so many ways. He didn't want to think about what was going to happen with either option.

So it was with a good bit of dread that Draco approached the heavy door. A sign proclaimed, in hastily scrawled letters, **_no pets. no exceptions._**

Draco glanced down at Specs. "Looks like you have to leave."

Specs mewed, not moving.

"C'mon, shoo!"

Specs bumped his head against the door.

"You can't stay here! You're not allowed! Go away!"

Specs gave Draco an accusing look, before stalking haughtily away. Draco was relieved to finally be rid of the cat, but at the same time, a little sad. Specs was the only one who hadn't completely shunned him. Well, Specs and Potter. But Potter didn't count, because he was only being nice to get something, Draco was sure. Specs seemed to actually like him. Maybe.

Draco shook himself. "You don't need that cat. Stop being pathetic," he muttered, before shoving open the door.

He took a seat in the far, back corner, trying to avoid everyone as much as possible. It appeared that the class was all of Dumbledore, as well as the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seventh-years. Potter had yet to show up, so Draco reflected on the changes at Hogwarts while he waited for class to start.

Professor Vector being head of Gryffindor had surprised him. She had always struck him as more of a Ravenclaw. But he had never taken her class, so he didn't really know her. And it had not surprised him nearly as much as Hagrid being head of Dumbledore. The oaf could barely teach his class. Why on earth did they put him in charge of a whole house? Granted, it was a fairly small house, but... Draco's thoughts trailed off as he realized that the class had gone silent. He looked up to see Harry Potter standing in the doorway, out of breath.

"Sorry I'm late. I got cornered by some first years who wanted autographs."

Nobody made any sound as he made his way towards the front of the room. He glanced around awkwardly before clearing his throat.

"Right, so, um... yeah. I'm your teacher. I... well, I'm gonna warn you all that I don't have much experience, um, teaching, and-"

"You were a wonderfull teacher in the DA, Harry," Loony Lovegood cut him off.

"Erm, thanks Luna, so-"

Pansy raised her hand. "What's the DA?"

Harry frowned. "It stands for Dumbledore's Army. It was the secret defense group that my friends and I started in fifth year because Umbrige was a crappy teacher. You must remember. You were part of the reason we were caught, after all."

Pansy seemed ready to snap back at him, but she was cut off by Weasley.

"Hey Harry, sorta random question, do we have a Quidditch team? Dumbledore, I mean. Is there a house team?"

"I have absolutely no idea. Ask Hagrid."

"Right," said Weasley. "Will do."

"Um, excuse me," a little Hufflepuff piped up nervously, "but what about Muggle Studies? It's just, Professor Burbage resigned last year, but Professor McGonagall never introduced a new teacher."

Draco felt a twinge of guilt in his gut. He hadn't really had much to do with the situation surrounding Professor Burbage, but something still prompted him to speak.

"She didn't resign."

"What's that supposed to mean, Malfoy?" asked Weasley, accusingly.

Draco's gaze dropped to the floor. The whole class was suddenly staring at him, and it was making him very uncomfortable.

"She- she was kidnapped," he muttered, not making eye-contact with anyone. "By Death Eaters."

Harry sighed, seeming far older than 18 in that moment. "I take it she's dead."

Draco nodded, feeling his face heating up. "The Dark Lord, he - well, he didn't take kindly to people who didn't share his veiws." The little Hufflepuff burst into tears. Draco winced, wishing he hadn't said anything. A lot of people were glaring at him, and he shrunk down in his chair.

"Right, well... to answer your question, I think Professor McGonagall has some sort of independent study assignment for Muggle Studies that she'll be passing out later in the year." Harry looked around awkwardly at the stricken class. "Yeah, ok, so since last year's classes weren't exactly, er, well you know, I thought we might start out by having everyone come up and preform the most advanced defensive spell that they know, just so I can, er, get a feel for the general skill level of the class."

A Ravenclaw raised his hand. "Are we going to be learning the patronus charm?"

"We definitely will eventually," said Harry, nodding, "but it might take some time to get there. The DA all knows it already, but the craziness of last year means that a lot of people are going to be behind, and we'll need to catch everyone up before we start doing really hard stuff like that."

"But didn't you learn it in third year?" asked the Ravenclaw. "Surely it can't be that hard if a twelve-year-old managed to master it."

"First, I was thirteen. Second, it took me over half the year to produce one that was fully corporeal. And third-"

"Third, he's the most powerful wizard of this era," Weasley said, cutting Harry off. "He fought Voldemort when he was eleven and still adjusting to the fact that magic existed, and won. He fought a basilisk when he was twelve and the entire school had been jerks to him for months, and won. He learned the patronus charm when he was thirteen and thought Sirius Black was out to get him. He fought a fully powerfull Voldemort when he was fourteen and, well he didn't exactly win, but he survived, not to mention, he won the Triwizard Tournament that year too. He formed an illegal defense group and then escaped from Hogwarts to go fight Voldemort _again_ when he was fifteen, _at the ministry_ who had been saying he was out of his mind all year. He fought inferi when he was sixteen. He fought Voldemort _in the sky_ on his seventeenth birthday, then spent months hunting down pieces of his soul to destroy, while hiding from Death Eaters and the corrupt Ministry, that is untill he infiltrated the Ministry to get a piece of Voldemort's soul, and freed a whole bunch of innocent Muggle-borns at the same time. He also broke into Gringottsto get another piece of Voldemort's soul, and then _escaped on a dragon!_ Then he went back to Hogwarts and defeated Voldemort for good, despite the fact that half the people he loved were _dead_ by then and most other people would have lost hope! And those are just the big noticible things he did, but he has lots of other important achievements, like being the youngest seeker in a century, and saving some innocent people with a time turner, an did I mention that he _broke into the Ministry? Twice!_ And he spent all of fifth year defying the corrupt system, and a lot of fourth year also, and he also had all the Deathly Hallows in his possesion at one point, making him the freaking _Master of Death_! And he's done other stuff too, but I think you get the point. So now I ask, what have _you_ done?"

At this point Weasley fixed the Ravenclaw with such a glare that he froze on the spot, opening and closing his mouth without making any noise. Draco was actually quite impressed by the list of Potter's achievements, but he wasn't stupid enough to let it show on his face, unlike many other students who were crowding around a very embarrassed and flustered Harry.

The rest of the class consisted of Harry signing autographs, answering questions, and talking a lot about how he couldn't have done it without the help of his friends. Then students were mobbing Granger, Weasley, Longbottom, and Lovegood too. Draco sat in the back of the room, watching the chaos. He was the only one who heard the bell when it rang, so he quietly slipped out the back of the classroom, surprised to realize how much he wished he could have participated more. But no one wanted to hear what he had to say, even when he could contribute. And he had nothing relevant to add to that conversation anyway. So he gloomily set out to the library, where he spent his free period as well as lunch, not having any intrest in socializing.


End file.
